


Without

by DancinginParis (Starlight_dreaming)



Category: Ballerina | Leap! (2016)
Genre: Are two shots a thing?, Gen, Heavy Angst, I have no excuse I just wanted to write sad stuff, Sad, Two Shot, very very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 18:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlight_dreaming/pseuds/DancinginParis
Summary: He was loosing her all over again.





	1. Ending

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry. I don't even know guys. My brain decided to put sad and Paris together and here you go.

Mérante stood alone, barely noticing as rain began to pour down over the graveyard. The others had already left, leaving him alone. He stared at the newest grave littered with white flowers, soaking in the rain. 

The rain suddenly stopped pouring over him. Mérante barely heard as the Opera director's voice called his name a few times, "You should go home Mérante," he was saying, "There's no point of you just standing here in the rain." Mérante didn't reply. "Mérante," the director tired again, "This isn't what Odette would want." 

Simply hearing her name was enough to sent a pang of pain through the numbness he was feeling. It was true, she would probably have reprimanded him from standing in the rain as he was doing now. The thought just made it all the much worst. 

Mérante slowly turned to face the director. The man held an umbrella over his head, his usually flamboyantly coloured clothing replaced by dark colours. And his even more flamboyant expression was sad and melancholy. "You don't know what she would have wanted," he said lowly glancing at the grave. She wouldn't have wanted to die. After all she had been through, she shouldn't have died. 

It was all his fault. 

Mérante stared at the grave. He wished they had more time. They were so many days unlived, so many moments never shared, so much time taken away. 

"Then what about little Isabella and Alexander?" The director's words felt like a slap. Mérante lifted his head. A part of him, a rational part of him, looked up through the mind numbing haze of sorrow and grief. "Think about the children Mérante," the director said gently, "Don't let her sacrifice be in vain. Go home." 

Yes, there was still the children to think about. Isabella and Alexander. The two children who Odette gave her life for. Mérante nodded slowly, "You are right," he decided. The director clapped him on the shoulder, "Good man." Mérante nodded, "Just give me a moment would you?" The director nodded and left as well. 

Mérante stared at the grave, alone once more. He sighed, "I'm sorry," he said. Saying it aloud made it all the much worst. "I'm sorry," he repeated, voice choked. He was grateful for the rain that masked his tears he finally let fall. "I wish, things could have ended differently." 

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He took a shuddering breath, "I'll take care of Alec and Bella, I swear I will. You need not worry, I'll raise them right. I'm just not sure I'm up to the job. I just thought... I always thought we'd do it together." 

He swallowed hard and looked at the grave, "Goodbye Odette," he said softly. Finally realizing this was a cruel nightmare. This was real. So terribly real. He smiled a little, "I'm grateful for the time we had _chérie_ ," he bowed his head, "I wish we had more. I wished we could have had one last dance." 

But even that was impossible now. 

With that said, he bowed a final time to his sleeping ballerina and turned his back, walking away. He forced himself not to look back.


	2. Beginning

Mérante awoke to the sound of singing birds and the feel of sunlight against his eyelids. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked against the light streaming in from his balcony. He heard a quiet chuckle, and a familiar voice, " _Bonjour_ Louis." 

Mérante smiled a little, as he saw his wife lying beside him, proped up on and elbow, watching him with a gentle smile. His Odette, his lovely ballerina, as beautiful as the day he met her on the Opera roof all those years ago. " _Bonjour amour_ ," he murmured quietly. He reached our a hand and brushing her hair back with a finger tucking a lock behind her ear. "You're so beautiful," he said with a content smile. Odette smiled, "Not so bad yourself," she said and for a moment everything felt right. 

He should have known it would never last. 

Odette sighed, "I have to go," she said, moving to get up. Mérant grasped her hand, "No," he said tugging her towards him and pulling her close, "Stay _chérie_." Odette let him, for now, leaning her head against his chest. "Why can't we stay like this?" Mérante asked his voice cracked, resting his cheek on the crown of her head, "Just you and me?" 

Odette pulled back, to look at him. Mérante didn't realize he was crying till Odette reached and brushed aside the tear that had slipped down his cheek with a thumb. "Oh how I wish we could," her smile was sad, "But we both know that's not how life works Louis," she said. Mérante swallowed hard, "Please don't leave me," his voice was almost a plea, "Not again. I lost you once before, how can I bear to lose you again?" 

Odette shook her head, "My dear Louis, you haven't lost me," she said, "I will always be with you, always." She pressed her lips against his cheek, "I love you Louis Mérante. Thank you, for everything you have given me." She smiled sorrowfully, "But it's time for you to wake up." 

The last thing he saw was her blue-grey eyes, filled with tears, before everything faded away. 

"Take care of them for me." 

* * *  
"Odette!" 

Mérante's eyes flew open, he instinctively reached for the other side of his bed, only to remember as his fingers grasped empty air. The sound of the rain pounding down in turrets outside reached his ears. He glanced across the empty bed at the window and saw that it was still dark outside. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. It had been a dream. Nothing more than a dream. 

Odette was gone. 

It took him a moment to realize what had woke him. A child's crying. Mérante stood up and dragged himself over to the room next door, where the sound of a crying floated down the corridor. He shut the door behind him, and walked over to the twin cradles, peering down at their occupants. Bella was sleeping soundly while her twin was screaming his lungs out. 

Mérante sighed and picked up his son. Alec continued crying. Mérante shook his head, " _Chut un petit_ ," he murmured, "I know, I miss her too." Alec eventually stopped crying, blinking open his blue-grey eyes, eyes identical to his mother's. Mérante smiled a little, "There, not so bad, yes?" Alec only stared at him before yawning, squirming around a little before falling back to sleep. 

Mérante laid him back down in his cradle gently as possible. He sighed, glancing from between Alec to Bella. They looked so similar it was honestly hard to tell the difference. Even now they reminded him so much of Odette it hurt. Mérante hung his head, his dark hair falling across his face as he watched at his children sleep.

The children he and Odette had wanted so badly, but at what cost. 

His little miracles. He wondered what kind of people they would turn out be. He didn't mind so long as they grow to be good people. People Odette would be proud of. He smiled, "Sleep well, _mes miracles_ ," he said before returning to his room, hoping to have at least another few hours of sleep. 

Alec woke him up again an hour later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take it back I am not sorry. :) Also I realized I could totally write a series based on this. Tell me what you guys think.


End file.
